Entry tags:

fanfiction, fanfiction - femslash, fanfiction - harry potter, fanfiction - nc-17

Fic: What's Inside (Harry Potter, Pansy/Parvati, NC-17)
Title: What's Inside
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Parvati Patil
Author's Notes: Originally written for slytherinjenn in the hpfsc femslash challenge. 940 words.

What's Inside

Pansy Parkinson is bitter. She's bitter, often, when she sees you in class, when she sees you talking to Hermione Granger, when she sees you making fun of Hermione Granger. You don't even bother to dredge up your shared memories, like that time you stole Mum's wand and hid in the backyard for hours, shooting sparks out of the rhododendron bush, because you know she'll just give you a funny look. Her nose will scrunch up and her eyes will narrow and her mouth will compress, a sour, angry glare.

Pansy is not usually sweet, but tonight she is, when you run your tongue over her skin, the curve of her breast, the nipple that puckers against your lips. It could be the open window, of course, the June breeze slinking in. Or it could be the fruit tart that you had with dinner, lingering in your mouth. But you prefer to imagine it's her – her skin that's usually hidden under her robes, in the dungeons.

You're licking the bottom of her ribcage, the side of her hip, trying to find the best spots – not just the places that taste good but also the ones that make her squirm and grumble above you. There's none of this whimpering and begging stuff; that's too soft for Pansy, and you both know it. But when you push your finger between her legs and nibble at the inside of her thigh, she makes a noise, halfway between a tired groan and a resigned sigh, and that's good enough for you.

You don't know how you expect Pansy to taste – sweet like her skin or bitter like her mouth. She smells musky and dark, but you reach out with the tip of your tongue and tease her clitoris from its hood, feeling the wet little bud open up to you, sugar dribbling down your chin. Your fingertip glides over the packet of nerves below her clit, rubbing the roughness, and she makes another sound, a gasp this time. If you bite gently, at her labia and her clit, your finger becomes more and more soaked with her juices, sharp and tangy but also warm and pleasant.

Pansy's thighs quiver, and that seems as good an invitation as any to push another finger inside her. All around you she feels hot and tight, the slick flesh squeezing your perfectly manicured fingers. Your bottom lip, swollen from kissing, is grazing her clit; now your tongue, and you stretch your fingers out all the way while you lick and suck and bite, faster faster until your hand is streaming wet with her orgasm, from your fingertips to your wrist.

You take your hand out of her and your tongue off her and wipe your mouth. Your lips are sugary and when your own palm grazes them, you're surprised at how tart your hand tastes.

* * *
Parvati Patil is sweet. She's sweet, always, when she bounces down the corridors, when she and Lavender Brown press their heads together at mealtimes, when she puts stupid things like pink-and-gold butterflies in her hair. You can't stand to think about the days when you were little witch-girls together, running and swimming and flying and reading about beauty charms, because you can't believe she's grown into such a beautiful sweet girl. You can't believe you once knew someone who could spend money on things like hot-pink nail varnish and copies of Cosmowitchitan.

Parvati is never bitter, but tonight she is, when she squeezes your breasts and then takes your nipples between her perfectly white teeth. Oh, she's pretty enough as usual, her heavy dark hair falling down her back in one smooth sheet, her perfect graceful hands on your hips. And maybe you shouldn't confuse fast with bitter. But either way, she's harsh, strong, like she can't be bothered to take her time with cute little kisses and licks.

She's got her fingers on your ribs, then your hips, then your thighs. Her mouth is still on your skin, your breasts, your stomach, that strange freckled spot on your knee that looks stupid, even though Mummy says it's a birthmark. You're not sure if you should make some noise or say yes or no or just lie there, letting her do what she wants. But you can't help it – Parvati's pretty slender fingers are pushing at your cunt and her pretty red mouth is on your leg and you have to say something, mumble something, sigh and nod as she traces your labia with her tongue.

Your head falls back against the pillow when she starts licking your clit. She's moving quickly, rubbing your more sensitive spots with one unpracticed finger, tonguing and nibbling the hood of your clitoris. You can't help the rush of wetness that streams from between your legs, even at Parvati's harsh, inexperienced movements, and she sucks it from you.

You can feel the muscles in your legs tensing as she thrusts another finger inside you, two fingers pushing and stretching and swirling in rapid circles until you're barely aware of her tongue on your clit. Her hand is steady and rebellious in your cunt. Parvati puts her top lip against your mound and scrapes her bottom teeth against your clit, and your orgasm comes in a rush, sudden and unexpected and accompanied with another rush of wetness that leaves a spot under your butt and shiny stuff all over her pretty hands.

You blink while she withdraws from you, pats her mouth daintily and leans down to kiss you. Her lips and tongue are sweet, as usual, and for a second you wonder if that's her or you.

fin.